


Stay with me

by Evergreene



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: A five times fic, M/M, More fluff than angst, fluff fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evergreene/pseuds/Evergreene
Summary: Five times Magnus says those words.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Malec - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75





	Stay with me

**Author's Note:**

> This little bit of fluff started out as part of my other fic 'Where angels soar' until I realised I was trying to tell two stories at once. I think it works better separately but I'd love to hear what people think of it as a fic in its own right. I guess it can be summed up as Magnus <3 Alec 4 eva. Apologies in advance for the misuse of commas and far too many run on sentences. :)

1.

Their first time is a messy tangle of uncooperative limbs, of giddy laughter that refuses to stay contained, of delighting in this happiness that has caught them, rare and off guard and all the brighter for it. They are stumbling, exploring, still learning each other, and Alexander is trying but he’s oh so new to this, and Magnus delights in it, this sweet, simple moment that is sweeping him off his feet.

For that is how he falls, how he has always fallen, swift and sure and all too quickly, stepping off that ledge, that high, precarious precipice without knowing what’s below but oceans and depths and crashing waves. And he adores it, lives for the excitement, the elation, the very life of it all, for it is this, this electric live-wire feeling that makes all the dull doldrums days of immortality worth living. 

Now, with Alec spread soft and sated and blurred beneath him, he’s able to breathe, to draw in this sense of contentment, and know that for once he’ll wake to a warm body relaxed in sleep at his side, meaning he’s not alone, he’s never alone, not as long as he holds on. 

‘Stay with me tonight,’ he whispers into the cusp of Alec’s ear, and it’s an order, a plea, a wish he wants granted. Beneath him, Alexander smiles, wide mouth stretching into one of those rare, precious grins that Magnus is learning to savour, that’s beguiling in its naivety, and Magnus can tell that Alec is pleased to be wanted, to be here, in the warmth of his bed. 

‘I’d like that,’ Alec says, the hint of a blush framing his cheeks, and Magnus relaxes, satisfied that this man, this wonder, is his, for a night-time at least. 

\------------------- 

2.

The second time they are in Paris, the Eiffel Tower lit up bright and electric before them after a mad, breathless dash from the small hole-in-the-wall café where they had been dining: coq au vin followed by the most delicious crème brule, silky smooth and lovely. 

All night Alec had been on edge, checking the time on his phone, restless despite Magnus’ best efforts to distract him with tempting bites of food and turns of phrase aimed purely at bringing forth that delightful blush that so often stained Alexander’s cheeks. 

‘Alexander,’ Magnus had said finally, slim fingers playing a rhythm only he could hear over the buttoned-up cuff of Alec’s midnight-blue shirt – one that Magnus himself had picked out for him. ‘If I didn’t know what an enchanting joy I was to be around, I would think I was boring you.’ 

Though it had not been his plan, his words had indeed brought about that lovely blush. 

‘I don’t want to miss it,’ Alec had admitted, and Magnus had smiled, indulgent, already familiar with Alec’s need to be aware of where he was, what he was doing, what _everyone_ was doing, every minute both day and night. A symptom of being the eldest child perhaps, he considered, wondering briefly what it would be like to hold such responsibility for those related to you by both flesh and blood. 

Certain of his confidence, knowing the city like the back of his hand, he had soothed Alec’s apprehension, taken his time savouring his own last few bites. ‘We’ll be fine,’ he had assured him, and it had not been until the antique clock hung low on the bare-brick wall opposite them had struck the three-quarter hour that he had started, realising they were late. Grabbing Alec’s wrist, he had thrown some bills on the table (livres of course – he didn’t believe in this new-fangled euro) and made a beeline for the door, deciding to ignore the muted huff of his acquaintance as he dragged him haphazardly through the café. 

‘Stay with me!’ he’d called, and Alec had seemingly chosen to put his annoyance away, activating a Speed rune with a touch of his stele and with a smile touching his face as they raced down the Parisian streets, chests heaving and feet flying in their haste, the tails of Magnus’ long plum jacket billowing out behind them. 

With seconds to go, they had reached the long avenue that stretched towards the towering landmark, had scrambled to a halt amidst the gathered crowds, and had watched, breathless, as all had gone silent. For a moment, a single, eternal, hanging moment, darkness had overtaken the world, then the night sky of Paris had lit up before them, shattered in spiderwebs and explosions of gold as the tower before them burst into brilliance. 

The crowd had oohed and aahed as only crowds knew how to do, but beside Magnus Alec had stilled. Silhouetted by the light, his face was a sculpture, Ganymede carved in full, and Magnus turned to look at him proper, heart caught in his chest as he let his eyes trace the features already becoming so familiar. 

‘You’re missing it,’ Alec had murmured, no doubt sensing his preoccupation with some secret Shadowhunter sense, but Magnus had shushed him, eyes never leaving his face. 

‘I’m looking exactly where I want to be,’ he had replied, and Alec’s mouth had curved softly upwards as he turned back towards the brilliant light emblazoning out before them. 

\----------------- 

3.

The third time finds them at Pandemonium, music humming, pumping, thrumming round them as, amidst the shattered lights of the dance floor, Magnus twirls. His studded black vest is damp with sweat, his azure-tipped hair styled impressively high, but it is the way his leather pants cling sinfully to his skin that draws the most admiring glances. 

Pleased with the attention, he preens, yet ignores his admirers to lift lightly up onto his tiptoes, peering over the heads of the gathered crowd in search of where Alec is sequestered with his book at the bar. His sister had been with him the last time he’d checked, but Isabelle had clearly surrendered to the lures of the night, for he could see her now through the haze of the club, dark hair flashing as sharp as her smile as she dances alongside a long, lithe fey. 

Forehead creased in a frown, Alec is lost to the world open before him on the page as he thumbs distractedly at the lip of his beer. No doubt unbeknownst to him, his booted foot is tapping along with the pounding beat of the music around him, and for a moment Magnus simply watches, a delighted smile twitching his lips as he takes in this man, his lover, who had sacrificed a quiet evening in the tranquillity of the loft for a night out far more to Magnus’s own tastes. 

A reward is in order, he decides impulsively. Mind made up, he wastes no time in withdrawing from his current circle of admirers to begin to weave through the dizzying maze of the dance floor, aiming for the row of slim silver seats upon one of which Alec is perched. Yet he’s made it no more than halfway when, having paused to spin a giggling nymph by the hand, a set of strong fingers grasp firmly onto his arm. 

He turns to see Alec, delectable as always in a moss-green silk shirt he had chosen under Magnus's prudent care. It goes stupendously with your eyes, darling, Magnus had persuaded him, smoothing the liquid-like fabric over Alec’s broad shoulders in his favourite boutique in all of Prague, and Alec had rolled his eyes, though Magnus had caught the pleased quirk of his lips as he had turned away.

Back in the club and realising Alec’s intent, Magnus laces their fingers together, his silver rings gleaming bright and brilliant under the trailing lights which Pandemonium is known for. ‘Stay with me!’ he shouts in Alec’s ear, using the briefest grain of magic to make sure the words would be heard, but to his surprise it is Alec who tugs free, instead wrapping a firm hand around his slim wrist and drawing him onwards as they fight against the milling, dancing crowds, heading for a wide fire exit Magnus knows to be hidden in one corner.

Bodies press against him – hot, lush and enticing - but Alec is determined and Magnus sees no reason to disobey his wishes. So he follows him, just as Eurydice did after her Orpheus, and before long they are past the straggling fringe of the crowd and are pushing through a door limned in light by the lurid green sign that hovers up above it. 

Together, they emerge past it into the echoing, empty silence of the blank white corridor beyond, and Magnus looks about them with a groomed eyebrow raised. Not exactly the most romantic place for a tryst, he thinks to himself, glancing dubiously at the false yellow light of the nearby stairwell that stains their surroundings an uncomplimentary hue, but then all thoughts flee his mind as Alec shoves him back forcefully against the concrete wall before nudging his legs open so he’s standing between them. 

‘This is better,’ says Alec bluntly. His voice low and predatory, his emerald eyes are dark green and dangerous, and with his pale skin luminous, his hair sweat-damp and rumpled and shoved back in tousled waves across his forehead, Magnus is helpless but to let himself be pushed back harder against the wall again until his head knocks against it with a light thud.

Senses alive and tingling after the thrum of the club, he lets out an appreciative hum, nudging his hips upwards with an answering smirk as he feels Alexander’s response. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he says to him lightly. ‘You know how I love a good party.’ Letting an idle smile play out over his lips, he allows a hint of the powerful warlock he is to drawl through. ‘I guess you’ll have to convince me.’

Alec releases a sound that resembles a growl. 'Is that a challenge?’ 

'You Shadowhunters, always so competitive,’ he starts to say, but the words are lost under the hot, wet assault of Alec’s mouth, and soon Magnus's thoughts are drifting pleasantly away, far from the thudding beat of the dance floor. 

\---------------- 

4.

The fourth time they are in Edom.

The fires of Hell burn hot about them - bolts of fire and flashes of heat that catch against their skin even under the scant protection of Asmodeus' roof, causing sheer, gleaming burns that sing and scream of pain. Sulphur coats the air, rotten and noxious and mixed with the heavy stench of molten, burning rock, and the deathly beats of demon wings are deafening in the skies. 

Yet Magnus is ignorant of it all, for Alec’s arms are around him again, long archer’s fingers clutching tight about his shoulders, and because of it, despite where they are, he knows he’s never before been this glad. 

Though his heart is full to bursting, he makes himself pull away to gaze at Alec, taking in his familiar, beloved face, wanting to drink his fill of him while he can. For he knows, even as he caresses a gentle thumb across Alexander’s cheek, that this perfect moment cannot last, and he braces himself to ask the question he knows he must say, to utter those words that will surely unravel all of Alec’s and Lorenzo’s plans. 

‘And if we succeed?’ he forces out. ‘Then what?’ 

Alec’s answer is immediate, unhesitating. ‘Then I stay here. With you.’ 

‘Stay with me?’ Magnus repeats, incredulous, and it breaks his heart as much as it heals it, knowing Alec would give up his entire world for him. Yet before he can deny Alec of what he demands, Clary bolts into the room, followed by her vampire, and he abruptly has other problems on his mind. 

\-------------

5.

The final time they are on a mountainside hidden high in the Andes, and it is dark and quiet as they lie beside one another, cushioned by a lush patch of whispering grass dotted with tiny white flowers. They grow only on this slope and nowhere else in the world, and for that Magnus has always remembered their delicate blossoms, coming back time and time again to enjoy their sweet nightingale scent which has always reminded him of something forgotten from his childhood.

This is the first time he has not come here alone.

He and Alec had spent the entire day in the mountains, simply enjoying each other's company, both glad to be absent for once from the business and bustle of their new home in Alicante. The City of Glass had proven a delight to explore, its many tantalising secrets providing a distracting lure from Magnus’s important work as its Warlock and Alec’s as Inquisitor, which tended to mean their waking hours were full, making it near impossible to find a stretch of time for them to be by themselves. So they had planned this trip to the very last inch and Magnus had portalled them out before sunrise that morning before anyone even knew they were gone.

Always one to feel the cold, Alec is rugged up against the light dusting of spring snow still coating the mountains, clad in a hairy brown coat that must somehow have escaped Magnus’ latest scourge of his closet. Despite his height, it hangs on him oversize, and what is worse is Alec that has embellished it with a bright woollen scarf looped twice round his neck, and with matching red earmuffs that have the audacity to perch soft, fluffy and fetching amongst his dark hair. 

Less affected by the cold, Magnus had nevertheless acceded to Alec’s concerns by donning his favourite leather jacket topped by a new-season Burberry scarf. His hands are warm as well, for he had conjured Alexander a set of red woollen mittens at the sight of his frozen-white fingers, but Alec had refused to put them on unless he magicked himself up a pair as well.

Now pleasantly tired after their long day, they lie on the ground together, nestled amongst a rich pile of cushions and several layers of thickly spelled blankets. A twitch of Magnus’ mittened fingers had bestowed a damp-proof warming spell on the whole set-up, and the heat of each other’s bodies had only added to the effect, leaving them toasty warm and restful amidst the encroaching dusk. 

With Alec’s earmuffed head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Magnus breathes in a breath of the crisp mountain air, feeling it sweep sweetly through him as he clasps Alec's mittened hands gently between his own. Underneath the blankets, Alec squeezes back and, satisfied, Magnus turns his attention up into the night sky, his warlock eyes lit gentle and golden as he searches for the meteor shower they had timed their visit to see. Finding it, his lips curve, for the sparkling hues of the dancing stars bring to mind another evening they had spent together, nearly two years ago now, when he and Alec had watched a similar explosion of colours as the Eiffel Tower had erupted in lights before them. 

‘Stay with me,’ he murmurs gently for memory’s sake, rejoicing in it being dark and quiet this time as he says the familiar phrase, just the two of them alone on this great mountainside, watching the pin-pricked stars as they wheel their way up high across the heavens. 

To his surprise, Alec turns his head to nudge his cold-reddened nose lightly against his chest, clearly having heard his softly-spoken words. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he says firmly, a hint of his well-known determination poking through, and a smile touches Magnus’ lips as he continues to watch the stars as they circle above the two of them in their glorious, eternal dance. 

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts. I'd love to hear your favourite part if you have one!


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